


Word of Mouth

by QueenDollopHead



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Deep Throating, Feelings, M/M, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 02:51:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1249981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenDollopHead/pseuds/QueenDollopHead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumors spread very quickly in Camelot, especially word of mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

It started as a favor for Gwaine.

After a recent run in with some bandits, Gwaine had increased his already frequent trips to the tavern and often found himself in Gaius’ chambers the next morning. No one dared to speak to the king about it, he had his own issues to sort out, and Merlin certainly didn’t want to be the one to deliver the news. And so the secret remained between the three of them. When Gwaine missed training one day, Merlin knew that the self-destructive behavior had to end.

Without knocking, Merlin entered the knight’s chambers. “Gwaine,” Merlin started, sitting down next to the man. It was clear that Gwaine had not left his room all day, and it was already well past noon. Presently, he sat on his bed, hunched over himself. His hands cradled his head, elbows resting on his knees. “What’s this all about?”

For what it was worth, Gwaine did his best job to flash him a grin, sitting upright with a flip of his long locks. “Just trying to have some fun, mate,”

Merlin shook his head in disapproval, of course Gwaine would try to lie about it, charm his way out like he did in any situation. Unfortunately for Gwaine, Merlin wasn’t having any of it.

“Look, if this is about those bandits, we all-”

“Merlin,” Gwaine interjected. Merlin clamped his mouth shut, the gravity of his tone shocking him into silence. “The sooner everyone lets it go, the sooner we can all forget it,”

For some reason or another, Gwaine appeared haunted by the event, his friend was certainly not himself. “Ignoring it won’t help,” reasoned Merlin.

“Maybe,” Gwaine mused thoughtfully, and then more cheerful “But, I’m trying anyways.”

“By drinking yourself senseless.”

“Hey now, I wouldn’t say _senseless_ ,” Gwaine replied. “Feels quite good, on the contrary,”

Merlin rolled his eyes. It was evident that Gwaine was not about to talk about it any time soon. Gwaine was all too predictable. “All the same,” he began. “I can’t let you do this to yourself.”

“Well I have to do something,” his friend laughed disdainfully. He leaped up and was about to pace but Merlin stopped him by grabbing his wrist. Maybe he was right, maybe talking about it wasn’t the answer. Gwaine stared at him, unable to read his expression. Curiously, he moved back to stand in front of his friend.

Merlin shifted forward on the edge of the bed, relinquishing his hold on his wrist in favor of resting it on Gwaine’s hip. Their eyes were locked, and as such Gwaine failed to notice the movement of Merlin’s opposite hand until he felt it begin to rub him through his trousers. He hummed his pleasant surprise, allowing his head to fall back and eyes slip shut. When he looked down, Merlin was still gazing at him with those- apparently deceiving- innocent, wide eyes of his.

Instinctively his hand shot out to clasp Merlin’s shoulder, an attempt to steady himself. Breaking the eye contact momentarily, Merlin moved to unlace Gwaine’s trousers. He pushed them down his hips just enough to pull out his length. Merlin cautiously closed his fingers around it and gave an experimental tug, to which Gwaine responded with a low groan, clutching his shoulder tighter. The servant took this as a sign of approval, and slowly coaxed him to hardness. “Mmm, Merlin, you really seem to know what you’re doing,” he marveled. Gwaine lifted the hand from his shoulder to stroke his profound cheekbones.

“Surely you remember life in the village before knighthood, ‘ _Sir_ ’ Gwaine.” Said knight laughed at his suggestion.

Here was Merlin, face to face with his prick, and he still found use for his sarcastic sense of humor. Nonetheless, Gwaine understood him completely. “Yes,” he agreed with a nod, tracing his jawline. “Yes I surely do remember.”

Merlin leaned into the touch, humming softly at the fond caress. Placing a palm over his friend’s sculpted mid-section, he pushed Gwaine a step or two away from the bed and slid off the edge to drop to his knees in front of him. He splayed his hands about the exposed flesh of his hips, leaned in closer, and kissed his tip. Gwaine chuckled in response, and licking them hungrily, curled his lips around the head. Merlin swirled his tongue around it, occasionally probing the slit. And Gwaine, never one to remain silent, was proficient in showing his appreciation.

Encouraged by his groans, Merlin endeavored to take in more of his erection. His tongue stroked the underside, and he ventured to hum around the intrusion, causing Gwaine to shudder beneath his touch. He pulled his head back until only the tip remained in his mouth, and began to bob his head forward, hollowing his cheeks as only one with experience knew how.

“Shit,” Gwaine cursed. His hand leapt up to tangle in Merlin’s hair, the other remaining at his side. Merlin peered up at him once again, and had the nerve to wink triumphantly at the knight, pleased with the reactions his efforts produced. Gwaine laughed in spite of himself, throwing his head back. The image of Merlin’s mouth wrapped around his cock, in the act of sucking him off, and then _winking_ at him, was just too much. In consequence of his outburst, Gwaine unintentionally thrust his hips forward, his shaft sliding further inward.

Gwaine froze; Merlin too had stopped his movements, perceivably because Gwaine caused him discomfort. He stroked his hair soothingly, intent on offering an apology, but it fell from his lips the moment he noticed the spectacle beneath him.

Merlin didn’t look the least bit uncomfortable. On the contrary, he looked rather thoughtful. A slight shift of the muscles in Merlin’s slender neck was the only warning Gwaine received before Merlin slid forward, fully engulfing his length. Gwaine arched in delight, fisting the hair in his hands. He pulled back slowly, and then slid forward once more. He looked down at Merlin, and almost released then and there.

The view was glorious. Merlin’s pale face, gaunt cheekbones, with his cock down his throat and those blue eyes boring through him, urging him to continue. He picked up a rhythm, pulling out and driving forward. His one hand continued to curl through Merlin’s raven locks while the other came up to clasp the small hand on his hip. They moved like that until Gwaine’s ruts grew erratic. He pounded into the wet cavern with fervor, then stilled suddenly. “Merlin!” he cried, spilling his seed. Said servant moved backward, just enough to allow to comfortably accommodate the ejaculate.

Gwaine moved to pull out; once free, Merlin leaned in and lapped up the last of the evidence. Gwaine chuckled and ruffled his hair, if Merlin was nothing else, he was efficient, contrary to Arthur’s beliefs.

Once the young man was finished, Gwaine tucked his softening prick back into his trousers, then re-laced them. Merlin remained on the ground, sitting on his legs with his hands folded neatly in his lap. Gwaine caught his gaze, offering a wink of his own. “Oh, hold on there, mate,” he said, catching eye of some of his cream that escaped to the corner of his mouth.

Bending his knees slightly, Gwaine leaned downward towards Merlin. With one hand resting on his knee, Gwaine reached out and tipped Merlin’s chin upward so that their faces were parallel. With that thumb, he swiped Merlin’s lips and presented the digit in front of them in offering. The servant studied it briefly before sucking it into his mouth, eyes flickering up to meet Gwaine’s once more. Merlin swirled his tongue around it, cleaning the last of his semen and savoring the lingering taste by gently sucking on it. “Lovely,” Gwaine marveled, still reeling from the unexpected onset of Merlin’s boldness. Merlin dragged his lips over his thumb, releasing it with a small ‘pop’.

Stroking his chin fondly, Gwaine leaned in and kissed Merlin on the forehead. When he pulled away, he smiled at Merlin, but the young man countered with a mock look of disgust. “Gwaine, please, I’m not a princess,” he leveled. “I just blew you, you didn’t just save me from a dragon,”

Gwaine hoisted his friend to his feet, laughing whole heartedly. “No you’re not,” Gwaine agreed, pulling him into an embrace. “In fact, I think this time _you_ saved me!” he pulled away, still grinning from ear to ear. “Thank you, Merlin.” Merlin rolled his eyes, clearly the knight had no clue just how ordinary it was for Merlin to be saving him, saving Camelot, the knights, Arthur. A hand on his shoulder broke him from his thoughts. “That’s a neat trick you pulled there, quite enjoyable I might add,”

“Oh, believe me,” Merlin sniggered. “I know, I heard you.”

Gwaine shook his head, his aloof smirk not leaving his face. Gwaine was back. “Who would’ve thought,” he began, walking over to his wardrobe. “That I would be serviced by King Arthur’s _manservant_ today!” he joked, tearing through the cluttered armoire in search of a tunic. Finding one, he pulled it over his head and paced back to Merlin. “No wonder he keeps you around,” he remarked with a not-so-subtle raise of his eyebrows.

Flustered, Merlin shook his head. “I… I don’t do that for Arthur,” he blurted. “He doesn’t know that I do… that I can…” he let the sentence end in silence, unsure of how to phrase… whatever he was trying to say. Gwaine nodded thoughtfully, mouthing an ‘Oh,’ in understanding.

“Well, I must say, he doesn’t know what he’s missing,” he patted his friend on the back before moving to fiddle with his hair in front of the small mirror in the corner of the room.

Merlin raised his eyebrows at the comment, making eye contact with him through the mirror. “Gwaine, you _do_ remember he’s to marry Gwen, don’t you?”

Gwaine paused, turning to face him and pouted in reflection. “Yes, yes I do,” he pivoted so that he was facing the mirror once more. Merlin swore he heard the man mutter “ _Now_ I do.”

Sighing, Merlin rolled up his sleeves and crossed his arms over his chest. “Do I need Gaius to prepare a hangover remedy?”

“Nope!” came the gleeful reply. “After _that_ , my head is as clear as ever, I’m ready to go take whatever lecture Arthur has to dish out!” With that, he parted with his dear friend, the mirror, and walked purposefully over to Merlin. He kissed him on the cheek, and was out the door in the next moment.

“I’m not a princess!” Merlin called after him. He laughed in spite of himself with a shake of his head and left a second later. Surely Arthur would be annoyed with _his_ brief absence as well; he could only hope that Gwaine was tactful in his exchange with Arthur, because Merlin would surely have to deal with him afterwards. In which case, Merlin would have to justify himself to an already aggravated King.

So basically, he had to deal with an _already_ aggravated King.


	2. An Act of Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gwaine's mouth might just be more potent than Merlin's.

Once or twice afterward, Gwaine had approached Merlin with a familiar slump in his shoulders and Merlin, of course, took care of him. It really wasn’t much of a big deal.

That is, until Merlin found out just how hard it was for Gwaine to keep his trap shut.

A few isolated incidents followed, Merlin would be greeted by a knight while he was out at the market – not at the castle, _never_ in the castle – and they would politely request his services. Given that these men were his friends, Merlin obliged, and showed off his coveted skill.

The acts never extended beyond the usual scope. Only when Merlin was with Gwaine would he allow himself to receive some reciprocal treatment in the form of a quick hand job. With the other knights, he never asked, and never accepted any offers.

With the exception of those knights, the members of the court were unaware of Merlin’s… extra-curricular activities, for which Merlin was exceptionally thankful. The last thing he needed was for Arthur, Gaius, or the ever suspicious-looking Agravaine to find out about this.

These acts were not incredibly frequent to start out, but with the oncoming threat of Morgana’s wrath, coupled with the return of Lancelot and Guinevere’s subsequent betrayal, the kingdom fell into chaos. The value of Merlin’s appointments grew increasingly, he was in high demand.

Presently, he found himself in the forgotten corner of the stables, crouched over a particularly sweaty Percival. Training had ended not too long ago, and Percival had been rigid with tension since early morning. He was hardly surprised when Percival had approached him afterwards, pupils blown wide with an unspoken question. Merlin had nodded briefly, and was immediately tugged off in the direction of the stables. Gwaine had waved at him over Percival’s shoulder as he was dragged away, beaming with pride at the results of his gossip.

So there they were, Percival with his trousers around his ankles and chainmail pushed up to his chest and Merlin, fully clothed, splayed about his lap. His hands rested on his powerful, exposed thighs while Percival pounded into his open mouth. From between his legs, Merlin got to enjoy the glorious view that was Percival. The two were on some hay covered ground, but Percival did not show any signs of discomfort. The larger man was leaning back, supporting all of his weight on one arm, tucked under him. Merlin could not see the other hand, but felt it tangled in his hair as his hips thrust upward into the opening.

Everything about Percival screamed athleticism. He made little sound besides his pants and grunts, broad chest heaving with the shallow, frequent breaths. Merlin silently marveled at the display; the pulsing lines of his abs showed just how much muscle it took to for him to initiate each movement of his hips with the minimal support keeping him off the ground.

Each and every muscle in his body went taut when his orgasm hit. He groaned through a clenched jaw, pelvis stuttering in the air as he emptied himself into Merlin’s mouth. When he was completely spent, his body went limp and dropped to the ground, effectively sliding his length out in the process. From his place on the floor, he watched as Merlin swallowed his ejaculate and ran his hands along his thighs. The hand previously in his hair moved to cup his cheek, and Percival managed to chuckle admirably through his deep breaths.

While Percival certainly wasn’t much of a cuddler, he was very good at vocalizing his appreciation for Merlin’s assistance. He cooed softly as he stroked his cheekbones with his thumb– a habit that most of the knights seemed to have picked up with him, not that he at all minded.

Percival gathered himself together, and stood. He pulled Merlin to his feet and mussed his hair back into place. He brushed his jacket clean of any hay before grabbing his hand and pulling the much smaller man into his chest. He patted his friend on the back before releasing him with a smile and curt “Thanks.”

Merlin grinned as he disappeared out of the stables. He leaned down to brush the straw off of his knees before following him out.

For Merlin, it was not about sex, it was about release. The Knights of Camelot, stripped of their armor and the weight that comes with it being able to uncoil the tension within them. As a servant and a friend, Merlin felt the need to look after the knights, and putting Camelot in the hands of a bunch of tightly wound men was certainly not the way to protect the people he loved.

And if he secretly relished the praise and appreciation that he never received as a physician’s assistant or especially as Arthur’s loyal manservant… then he certainly never admitted it to anyone, including himself.

Guinevere’s betrayal had shattered Arthur to pieces, the man had grown increasingly irate and removed, even Merlin’s clumsiness failed to bring a smile to his face. The blond king spent a lot time brooding at his window, hunting, and buried neck deep in matters of the court and the resulting paperwork. He never returned Merlin’s witty banter, and each time the young servant confronted his friend, Arthur turned him away.

As such, Arthur also immersed himself in training. Long after the other knights, and _apparently_ Merlin, had left the training grounds, Arthur remained, savagely swinging a blunt sword at a wooden dummy.

“Hey, mate, let up. Man doesn’t even have a shield!” Arthur spun around and slashed his sword at the head of the speaker. The man swiftly ducked under the assault, popping back up a moment later. He threw his hands up in defense, grinning like a child with his hand caught in the bread basket.

“Gwaine,” Arthur acknowledged, shoving his sword into the earth.

“A little tense, I see,” Gwaine observed as Arthur brushed past him. He turned to watch Arthur tug off his gloves and cast them to the ground.

Arthur decidedly ignored his suggestion. “Where’s Merlin?” he asked, not looking up from his task.

“Merlin…” Gwaine hummed, feigning an unseen expression of thoughtfulness before snapping his fingers. “Ah right! I remember, I saw him heading over with Percival to the stables just after training.”

The funny thing is that if Gwaine had said any other combination of two names in that context, Arthur would likely have reached the intended conclusion, but since his manservant was involved in the equation, the thought never rose to his mind. “Percival?” he echoed, offering Gwaine a look of bewilderment. “But where would Percival be riding out to in the middle of the afternoon?”

Gwaine shook his head. “No… I don’t think any riding went on.”

“Hmph,” Arthur scoffed, looking around him once more for good measure.

“When was the last time you received fellatio?”

“I beg your pardon?” Arthur sputtered, equally angered and caught off guard by Gwaine’s intrusive question.

“You know,” Gwaine drawled, making circular motions with his wrist. “Have you recently had your royal… _clot-pole_ sucked?”

“I _know_ , I know what you’re saying, Gwaine,” Arthur groaned, rubbing his temple. He pointedly ignored his bastardized usage of Merlin’s word for him. After a moment he sighed, and added “I just can’t believe you said it…”

Gwaine gave an exaggerated shrug. “I’m going to take that as _nooooo_ …” he stuffed his hands into the waistband of his trousers. “May I make a suggestion?”

Arthur cocked an eyebrow, giving the other man a look of suspicion. “If I say no, will that stop you from telling me anyways?”

The grin Gwaine returned answered the question sufficiently, still, Gwaine piped “Probably not.”

With a wave of his hand Arthur squared himself to face the knight. “Go on, then,” It was clear by his expression that the last thing he needed was one of Gwaine’s ideas, especially with the topic in question being so… _literally_ , touchy in nature. “Let’s hear it.”

“Ask Merlin.”

Arthur scoffed. “For advice? Please, Gwaine,” he chuckled. “I’m not _that_ desperate,”

Gwaine laughed and stepped into his space, shaking his head at the utter obliviousness that encompassed King Arthur. He clapped a hand on his shoulder, and with the other hand, tapped his finger on Arthur’s stomach, just barely above the area where his trousers ended. He tipped his head up as he spoke, looking down at the blond over his nose. “Think with your other head, mate,” he winked at the man for emphasis, ensuring that Arthur could not miss the point this time.

“Merlin… for… _that_?” Arthur pushed his hand off his shoulder and swatted the other one away. “Gwaine, he’s my manservant, and my friend, I could never ask him for that, besides, he–”

“Is quite skilled, actually,” Gwaine interrupted, folding his arms over his chest. “You know, _at that_ ,” he whispered the last part, thoroughly amused by Arthur’s apparent discomfort.

His face scrunched up in a look that mirrored a combination of confusion and disgust. “And why would you know that?” Arthur question, unsure if he wanted an answer.

“Try to find a knight that _doesn’t_ ,” Gwaine shrugged, then offered his king an expression of skepticism. “Have you really not known this whole time? Arthur it’s been a good month or so–”

“Well _sorry_ if I am unaware that my servant’s been sneaking around doing… _that_!”

Gwaine tut-ed in mock disapproval. “We _really_ need to work on expanding your vocabulary.”

Arthur ran a hand through his golden locks, trying to sort through the situation at hand. “Are you telling me that Merlin is with Percival in the stables… blowing him?”

“Essentially, yes,” he nodded with a sly smirk. “I’m telling you, Arthur, he could really do you some good; he takes all the tension in _here_ –” he ruffled Arthur’s hair. “And _there_ ,” his hand pointed at Arthur’s abdomen once more. “And just… works it all away.”

“So you do speak from experience,” Arthur threw him an accusing stare.

Gwaine lifted his one hand in the air, further clutching Arthur’s shoulder with the other. “Guilty as charged,” he smiled. “Multiple times in fact,” he added, clearly incapable of _not_ boasting about it.

Arthur stepped out of his reach once more, placing his hand on his hips. “We’re going to talk about this… _later,_ ”

“So you’ll do it, then?”

“I’ll consider it,” Arthur gave a perfectly noncommittal response, but Gwaine knew better. Once he planted an idea in the King’s head, he would water it for himself and let it grow.

“Excellent decision, my friend,” he commended, yanking the sword out of the ground. “You won’t regret it!” he thrust it flatly against the other man’s chest and swatted him on the backside in passing. Arthur jumped at the contact, clutching the sword to him, but was too lost in his thoughts to consider chasing after his chatty friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the great response to the first chapter! I've decidedly extended this story to three chapters, and the next chapter will bring what you've all been waiting for... Arthur's confrontation with Merlin ;)
> 
> Side note: Sorry for being incredibly chatty and cheesy with summaries/dialogue... I can't help but try to be witty, even when I fail miserably... tee-hee.


	3. Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A king should never hesitate to ask something of his servant, but why does he have so much trouble asking his closest friend?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If excessive italics _irritate_ you, then I truly and deeply apologize.

Sometimes, Arthur forgot that behind the hair and aloof attitude, Gwaine was above all else, a Knight of Camelot; swift, handy, and tactful. So when Gwaine devised a plan to get Merlin to _assist_ Arthur, he was admittedly more surprised than he should have been.

  
The “appointment” was placed in Gwaine’s name, because it would be absurd for Arthur to approach his own manservant with such a request. Gwaine assured his king that he would gladly take Arthur’s place should he get cold feet, but Arthur dismissed the idea quickly. He argued that the precautions were only in place to ensure that no enemy could find out and to prevent rumors from spreading throughout Camelot, to which Gwaine had nodded with mock understanding.

  
So, there he was, standing in a luxurious guest quarters on the far side of the castle. No one even patrolled this side of the castle anymore, because it couldn’t possibly be any further away from the royal chambers. Arthur initially wondered if Merlin had thought the setting suspicious, but later realized that nothing short of being completely silent was out of character for Gwaine.

The suspense was dreadful. Arthur had never known Merlin to be punctual, but his lateness never bothered him as much as it did then. He uncomfortably shifted his weight from one foot to the next. Any moment, Merlin would stumble through that door, expecting to service Gwaine, and Arthur would be standing there in his place.

Every so often, Arthur tried a new position. He would cross his arms over his chest and adopt his authoritative glare, then he’d shift and clasp his hands behind his back. Time dragged on, his shoulders sagged and the position fell. If any change were to come to the door in the future, Arthur was confident that he could pinpoint it in a matter of seconds. Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair and in that moment the door popped open.

Arthur jumped to attention as the dark haired servant appeared in the doorway. The other man flushed when they made eye contact. “Merlin,” Arthur nodded to his friend.

“Arthur…” he returned. Puzzled, he retreated into the hallway, turning his head this way and that. “I was just um…” he trailed off, then turned back to Arthur. “Have you seen Gwaine?”

“Merlin, close the door.”

He stilled. “What?”

“Get back in here, and close the door.” Arthur softly commanded. Merlin complied silently, eyeing him with interest. “Gwaine’s not here,” he paused, acknowledging that he couldn’t change his mind or make up and excuse once he spoke the following words. “ _I_ requested your services.”

Bless his friend’s ever present innocence, and damn it at the same time. The man stared back at him as if he had spoken another language.

Arthur sighed and resolved to approach the statement form a different angle. “Gwaine asked you to come here, on _my_ behalf,” he watched as realization washed over him. He muttered a quiet “oh,” and slumped his shoulders guiltily, it became clear that Merlin had no intention of telling him about his new hobby. “You don’t…” Arthur continued, eager to fill the uncomfortable silence.“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he assured.

Finally coming to his senses, Merlin shook his head. “No, I do,” he paused. “I am _your_ servant, after all,” he added, quickly resenting himself for doing so.

Arthur regretted those words as well, it was not Merlin’s _duty_ to fulfill such acts. Maybe to another king, in another kingdom, but certainly not here, certainly not to Arthur. “Merlin,” he sighed. “I am not asking you this as your king, I’m asking you as a friend…this would _never_ be a part of your… job.”

Merlin nodded hesitantly, but advanced all the same, heart beating loudly in his chest as he moved. For a brief moment, he wondered if perhaps Arthur was enchanted, or maybe he was dreaming… or both, but he shook the thoughts from his head. He knelt before him, as any servant should, and reached to the front of his trousers.

The idea of pleasing the king has crossed his mind once or twice, in fact, it would be hard to find someone who didn’t think of it. With a gentle tug, the laces came undone, and he pulled the band down his hips to reveal a patch of blond hair. As Arthur removed his length from its confines, Merlin realized just how ludicrous this all seemed.

In all of his wildest fantasies, he had never imagined this “skill” as the knights called it, to become part of his job description. Let alone that Arthur would ever actually ask him for such a favor. _No,_ Merlin reminded himself with a dull pang in his chest. _This isn’t about me, it never was._ He had to force himself to remember that before the previous week, Arthur had someone, he and Gwen were supposed to get married. This was just a release for a heavily burdened king. If anything, it could be associated with Merlin just trying to be a good friend, or it could be a part of his destiny, but it could never have anything to do with Arthur wanting him.

Just another favor, just another friend.

King and manservant was their public relationship, but the two were always friends, even if they occasionally forgot that. Merlin frequently wondered how things might have been different if it weren’t for their public roles, for the expectations that came with their titles, including Merlin’s hidden agenda as a warlock and protector to his king. _Just another favor, just another friend._

Taking his length in his hand, Merlin gave a few slow strokes beginning to pump it. His eyes never met Arthur’s, although he would occasionally glance up at him and see his gaze transfixed on Merlin’s movements. The two unknowingly switched off, each searching the for the other’s eyes while they were focused elsewhere.

For the life of him, Merlin couldn’t understand why the room felt so tense. With the other gentlemen, it was often treated like a matter of business, or alternatively as a friendly encounter. But here, every movement was calculated and cautious. Even as Arthur’s shaft hardened in his grasp, the sounds he made were minimal and clearly restrained.

“Arthur…” Merlin called, locking eyes with him. “You can trust me, relax, please,”

Arthur nodded slowly, of _course_ he could trust Merlin, he always had, but that wasn’t the issue. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that Merlin didn’t want to be here, as much as he insisted otherwise. Merlin couldn’t help but frown back, he unfailingly knew when Arthur was tense, but even this was a little extreme for him.

Leaning forward, he slid his hand down to the base and circled his lips around the tip. He stroked the slit with his tongue, finally evoking an unhindered moan from the man above him.

And then, the two were lost; Arthur’s cock engulfed in the wet warmth of Merlin’s skilled mouth as Merlin allowed the eager king to thrust into him. In the heat of the moment, Merlin broke one of his unspoken rules, he uncurled his hands from his lap and lowered the waist of his own trousers, allowing his already hard member to spring free.

The servant declined the instinct to question why he was hard, and skipped straight to beating his fist up and down his cock. He looked up at the man above him; his head was tipped back, lips slightly parted as he panted, and those bright blue eyes were hidden behind his closed eyelids. Merlin was struck helpless looking at him, and increased his tugs with fervor. He moaned as he was hit by the image of the two of them in a slightly different position.

Arthur’s eyes leapt open at the sensation of vibrations going down his length, he idly wondered why they came completely out of time with his thrusts.

But then, Arthur made the mistake of looking down. Merlin with his pink lips wrapped him and his wide blue eyes clouded with an emotion that Arthur had never before seen in them. Even more, Merlin had his hand wrapped around his own shaft, pumping it relentlessly.

“Merlin!” he gasped. Immediately, he pulled out of Merlin’s mouth, halting the approaching orgasm in its tracks with true knightly discipline. He squatted down to Merlin’s level and stared into his eyes, the lanky man blushed under scrutiny, and his hands fell politely into his lap once more.

Still, he refused to break eye contact, even as the embarrassment of Arthur catching him jerking off to him threatened to crumble him. He returned the king’s gaze because, quite frankly, there was nowhere else to look. Their faces were so close that he feared that if he breathed too heavily, the king would fall back onto his bare arse.

Why was Arthur studying him so intensely? Was he mad at him for touching himself? The questions were driving him mad, all he wanted to do was keep pleasuring Arthur, keep touching himself, and here he was having a staring contest with the bloke.

Without warning, Arthur leapt at him, seizing his lips and knocking him down so that he had to scramble to find the floor with his hands before his back hit it. His arms trembled delightfully as he barely managed to hold himself up under Arthur’s attack. Once he felt steady enough, he eagerly allowed his own eyes slip shut and returned the passionate kiss.

The kiss slowly weakened him, as Arthur initiated a battle between their tongues. Merlin couldn’t concentrate on anything but his king, even as his arms threatened to give out from under him. To his credit, Arthur, with his eyes closed, sensed Merlin’s instability and wrapped an arm behind him, keeping his torso lifted off the ground.

Using his newly freed hands, Merlin grabbed him by sides of his face and hungrily stole control of the kiss, devouring his mouth. Arthur kicked his way out of his trousers before moving to straddle Merlin’s thighs. Not one to surrender, he retaliated by taking his free hand and wrapping it around the base of Merlin’s length. The servant shuddered beneath him, and as soon as he began to stroke him, Merlin broke the kiss with a breathy moan.

“No fair,” Merlin whined to the blond, looping his arms around his neck. “You cheated.”

Arthur laughed even as he continued to pump him, he leaned forward so that their foreheads were touching, but his gaze was further south. “Knights don’t cheat, Merlin,” he reasoned.

“Yeah, but royal _prats_ , do.”

Purposely ignoring the muttered comment, Arthur momentarily stopped to rip Merlin’s scarf off his slender neck. He selfishly attacked the soft flesh, nipping, sucking, biting up and down; deliberately marking the sensitive skin.

Merlin allowed his eyes to flutter closed once more, focusing only on the beautiful things that Arthur was making him feel. “Arthur…” he panted. “Please…please I need…” the final word never came, mostly because Merlin wasn’t entirely sure what word was appropriate to fill in the blank. Nonetheless, it made Arthur still. He lifted his head so that blue met blue.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, relocating his hand from Merlin’s member to his cheek. Merlin nodded against his hand, unconsciously leaning into the touch. Arthur idly brushed his thumbs over his cheekbones as he spoke. “You don’t have to, you know.”

“No, I know,” he returned. “But I _need_ to,” he emphasized his point by raising his hips, the precome from his tip dampening a part of the bottom of his tunic. Arthur swallowed hard, reading the truth in his eyes as well.

One arm tucked under his knees, the other behind his back, Arthur effortlessly scooped Merlin from the floor and deposited him on the bed. He stepped back and fiddled with his tunic as Merlin, too, peeled off his layers and kicked off his boots.

For one reason or another, Gaius liked to keep the guest quarters… well stocked. His father had mentioned this tidbit to him some time after his coming of age celebration, so it did not take Arthur long at all to find a small vial in the drawer of the bedside table.

Arthur fumbled to uncork the glass bottle; he was further hindered when Merlin grabbed him by the wrist and gently tugged on his arm. The unsuspected force was just enough for Arthur to lose his balance and crash into Merlin’s expecting lips. He released the still-corked vial onto the lush sheets as he crawled on top of Merlin.

This kiss was much gentler, but just as enjoyable. Their hands roamed everywhere as they relished in the skin to skin contact. Then, Merlin’s hand departed from the tempting skin of Arthur’s chest in favor of wildly grasping around for the vial.

Another hand found it first, much to Merlin’s dismay, but Arthur reassuringly squeezed his thigh. “Let me,” he cooed, managing to finally uncork the bottle.

“But… I’ve never-”

Arthur smiled fondly at his friend. “It’s okay, I’m here to help.”

Eagerly returning the smile, Merlin shifted to sit up slightly, placing his weight onto bent elbows. Arthur coated his fingers with some of the new substance. He, too, moved, shuffling back so that he was lying between Merlin’s parted legs.

Guiding his knees to bend, Arthur lined up the first digit to his quivering hole. “Good God…” he muttered, watching as Merlin, laid out before him, chewed on his bruised lip. With measured caution, Arthur pressed his index finger into the quivering ring of muscle to start to warm him up to being filled, but Merlin’s body had other ideas. His body arched up from the bed, causing his hips to shift downward onto the slicked intrusion. Merlin whimpered at the new stretch, dropping his hips back down onto the bed. The young man’s entire body was rigid with tension, making Arthur’s job a lot harder.

“Merlin,” he whispered, rubbing up and down his thigh. Said man’s eyes flickered to meet his. “You can trust me, relax, please,” he said, echoing Merlin’s earlier statement to him.

His chest rose as he breathed, and then fell with a shaky exhale. “Okay,” he nodded.

And so Arthur resumed, slowly pushing his finger in to the knuckle before pulling most of the way out and repeating the process. He kept a very patient pace, waiting until the tension truly fell away from Merlin’s body before adding a second greased up finger.

Once Arthur finally began to pick up the tempo after adding a third finger, Merlin became a mewling mess. He had given up on sitting upright a long time ago, his back now flush against the mattress. His hands fisted the sheets, he squirmed down onto Arthur’s fingers whenever the other man hesitated for more than a millisecond.

Seeing Merlin like this, writing in pleasure under his touch, was almost enough to make him cream himself right then and there. He was so focused on his task, so fixated on Merlin, that he almost didn’t hear him when he spoke.

“A-Arthur!” he cried between the thrusts of his fingers. “No more!”

The blond froze, and then withdrew in favor of moving to lean over Merlin, concern evident in his eyes. He felt a pang of guilt strike him in the chest, had he pushed Merlin too far?

“No more,” the raven haired man repeated, shaking his head. “Stop teasing me, I need you, Arthur,” he whined, reaching with a heavy arm to cup his cheek.  


Arthur covered the hand on his cheek with his own. “Are you sure?” he asked, surprised at the sudden turn.

“For the last time, yes,” Merlin growled in frustration. “More sure than I’ve been about anything in my entire life.”

“Alright.” He squeezed the hand before leaning down to peck Merlin on the lips. Arthur found the bottle once more, and used its contents to coat his shaft before leaning back on his heels. He kneeled in front of him, then lifted the other man’s legs to rest on his thighs. “This will hurt,” he warned.

“Please,” Merlin sighed, offering him his hips. Nodding decisively, Arthur gripped his bony hips and then knelt up into Merlin’s waiting body.

The other man whimpered quietly, shifting so that he could get used to the new sensation. “It’s alright,” Arthur reassured. “You’re doing well.”

A moment or two later, Merlin was grinding his hips onto his length. “Move,” he begged, arching his back from the mattress.

Thankfully, Arthur complied. He pulled out slightly before filling him once again, setting a dreadfully slow pace that made Merlin feel like twice the virgin he actually was. Gradually, though, Arthur began to shorten the time between his thrusts. “God, Merlin.” He marveled, the sight of him stunning him. Even after all the battles Arthur had dragged him through, his skin remained remarkably free of scars. One or two tiny ones here or there were visible, but Arthur could remember distinctly a few instances where he surely thought Merlin’s flesh would be marred forever, but alas no evidence of such an event remained.

The two moved well together, one eagerly meeting the thrusts of the other as pants and groans echoed about the room. Hand still slick with the lubricant, Arthur grabbed a hold of Merlin’s member and began to pump him in time with his thrusts. The smaller man moaned appreciatively, the sound immediately forgotten within the cacophony of skin on skin contact.

It wasn’t long before Merlin lost himself, the dual assault on his body sending him over the edge with a delightful cry, droplets of white ejaculate falling onto his stomach. Arthur followed not long after, spilling into Merlin’s pliant body before going limp himself. He withdrew and collapsed beside him, their legs tangling together in the process.

Leaning on his side, Arthur couldn’t help but reach out to caress the other man’s face. It had never before occurred to him that Merlin could be such a gorgeous, sensual creature, but now that’s all he saw. He felt vulnerable to him, but for once, such a weakness didn’t bother him. “Hey,” he breathed as Merlin turned to him. “Thanks,” he finished after a few deep breaths.

Merlin laughed between gasps of air as he, too, rolled onto his side to face him. “Was hardly an inconvenience,” he returned.

Arthur smiled at that, letting his hand fall to his hip. “You do realize that Gwaine’s going to have find another stress reliever, right?”

“Alright, what about the other knights?” this time it was Arthur’s turn to laugh.

“They can figure that out for themselves.”

A brief silence ensued, the intimacy of their previous moment hanging over them. Their act served to confirm what Merlin already knew about himself, but for Arthur, it exposed something within him that he had never before noticed.

He pulled him closer, leaving a lingering, sweet kiss on his lips before resting his forehead against his. “You know I don’t like sharing,” Arthur added.

“Yeah,” Merlin agreed. “Me neither.”

Arthur sighed and settled Merlin against his chest, draping his arm over his thin body and nestling his chin in his dark locks. Merlin snuggled up to him, enjoying the warmth offered to him as the two fell into silence once more.

They lay with their bodies flush against one another’s. Maybe this way, they could pretend that there was no room for the one thing that could come between them… Guinevere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everyone that waited patiently for the 3rd and final chapter! Hope it was worth the wait :)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a kink-meme Merlin prompt that I saw the other day. I haven't been able to locate it since, but it said something along the lines of "Everybody in Camelot knows that Merlin swallows", so there we have it. 
> 
> If anyone knows the person who posted the prompt, let me know!


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